I have man flu, I have a sore throat, head ache combined with a really bad case of feeling sorry for myself. This drastic illness struck me down on Saturday. So I took to my bed and sulked as only a man can.

Mrs Sensible coped admirably with me, she force fed me food I really didn’t want to eat, she didn’t shout too loud when I shuffled into the lounge in search of chocolate. I could quite get used to breakfast, dinner and tea in bed. Lunch arrived on a tray, complete with a glass of water for more Italian medicine, and I noted with surprise there was no glass of wine. I decided not to comment on this omission, I thought it might be detrimental to my already failing health.

Sunday was a glorious sunny day and Mrs Sensible wanted to wash the bedding. We are in the depth of winter here in Sunny Italy, and there are only a few good days for drying bedding sheets etc. But first Mrs Sensible had to force encourage me out of bed. She dropped several hints and I managed to persuade her, it was a lost cause by occasionally moaning and requesting items like my laptop, cups of tea etc, with my sorrowful but husky voice. Isn’t it amazing a sore throat gives you a husky voice and when I need one, for example when I was courting Mrs Sensible it didn’t materialise.

All through the weekend my wonderful wife fetched and carried for me, she administered hugs when I demanded them and cups of tea around the clock.

On Monday morning, Mrs Sensible had to go to school to teach her delightful Chilblains, before she left she provided me with breakfast in bed (a tub of yoghurt some dried prunes in a bowl and a glass of water to take my medicine) Later when Mrs Sensible came back into the bedroom to collect the tray she asked if I had managed to eat everything. Nope I have hidden the prunes under the bed they didn’t look appetising. She looked you know, does that say something about me?

So on Monday morning I was languished in my bed, occasionally checking my e mails for work and snoozing, at lunch time I realised that if I wanted a cup of tea…. I would have to get out of bed and make it myself, uffa! After a shower and veggi burgers (I really need to pluck up courage and talk to Mrs Sensible about the food she buys, last week it was rabbit, now veggi burgers!!!)

As I was feeling a little better I thought I would pen a quick post for you lot. So here it is.

Last year I took Mrs Sensible to the hospital in Alessandria for a chest x ray. When Mrs Sensible went in to have her photo took, I sat in the corridor talking to a nice Italian lady, who had lived in Canada and therefore understood English. An x Ray is normally a very simple affair, you go in, stand perfectly still, watch the budgie and click all done. But of course this is Italy. For some reason, the guy whose job it was to take Mrs Sensibles portrait, came storming out of the room, followed a few minutes later by Mrs Sensible who had her schoolmarm look.

It transpires, that when Mrs Sensible asked where she was to change, and where was her gown (to cover her modesty) the man said “ I am a radiologist, I have seen lots of naked women, just get undressed and put your clothes on that chair” He may have seen many naked women, but this was the first time he had come face to face with Mrs Sensible.

Mrs Sensible told the radiologist that she had lived in the UK, where they give you a gown and a changing cubical, she also explained about patient’s privacy and I am sure one or two other items. The radiologist gave in and asked Mrs Sensible if she could do the ‘taking the bra off without removing the T shirt manoeuvre’ She obliged and he took her picture.

Hospital gown, better than nothing

The lady from Canada, who was listening to Mrs Sensibles latest adventure, agreed and said it was a disgrace that Italian hospitals were so bad. She went in for her X ray and about 30 seconds later the Radiologist exited the room shouting, swearing and waving his hands about. Mrs Canada had decided she wanted to do the bra shuffle as well.

I think we caused a bit of a fuss at the hospital, because the other women who were sat waiting for their turn were muttering revolutionary thoughts such as “ if she didn’t have to get naked, why should I” and “how do you do the bra shuffle, I think mine it too big to do it”

Enough of Mrs Sensible, I am still poorly but as a brave little soldier I have gone into work to see how many people I can infect with man flu.

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42 thoughts on “Watch the Birdie”

Very funny situation so typical of Italian hospitals!
Remember that when I came back to my country ,after living some years abroad,I felt astonished and offended in so many cases,regarding health practices!
Then I became accustomed………..
Ciao!

well done Mrs Sensible!! bit of bra-burning for us sisters!!!
and stop feeling sorry for yourself Pecora Nera, you see, if you don’t eat the right food (rabbit, horsemeat burgers, dried prunes) you’ll always get flu. And also la cervicale for sure!

Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaah! (Said in true House of Commons style). Totally agree with you. Cervicale is terrible, and apparently can only be cured with regular intacke of bunny sausages and horse burgers. On more serious note, I hope that the man flu has moved on….

The man flu has gone. I stretched it out as long as I could, but what is the point of staying at home when your nurse has gone to teach snotty nosed chilblains how to tie their shoe laces. And my ration of wine had been curtailed while I was sick. Apparently it is not good for me, but prunes are.

glad we have lots of “sisters” on Mrs Sensible’s side and putting some sense into this Pecora Nera….
By the way Pecora Nera, all the comments here seem to be from women, do you have any MEN followers? or do we just fall into your trap of making us feel sorry for you ALL THE TIME!!?? 😉

Mrs Sensible really has her work cut out for her, what with those chilblains, doing the bra shuffle and making sure you eat your prunes and veggi burgers. Don’t be surprised if she suddenly develops woman flu. 🙂

I am in awe of how men cope when they have man-flu. How did you manage to lift the lid of your laptop, shuffle downstairs in search of chocolate, lift cups of tea to your lips etc. You must be so strong/brave. I know when we women have ‘man flu’ we really struggle to do the laundry, cooking, washing up, putting the bins out, collecting husbands from the station, preparation for work, going into work etc etc. Can you give me some tips on how to cope next time I have a headache or sore throat? 😉 😀

We definitely take the NHS for granted… When you move to the UAE you have to have a compulsory blood test for HIV. I was taken to a ‘clinic’ that resembled a crumbling outhouse. I absolutely hate needles but, thankfully, I was distracted from the pain of the needle going in by watching the swarm of ants climbing the walls and furniture…

Ugh, there’s nothing worse than being sick, I really detest it! Also, I have to admire Mrs. Sensible’s tenacity: I’m of a similar strain. When my daughter was little she had to get x-rayed and the guy who came to do the x-ray was only the junior and didn’t seem like he knew what he was doing. I offended him greatly by requesting the Head of the department come to see to it, but you know, that’s my baby so I don’t care if the guy fills in for the Pope on occasion, he can get off his ass and come down to see a patient once in a while 🙂 More people should stand up to medics, they aren’t gods! (They just think they are)…

We only live in Italy, because I threw a tantrum. Mrs Sensible prefers England. So if your husband falls fowl of the dreaded man flu. I can send Mrs Sensible over as a nurse. We would love a trip back to the UK 🙂

I think I will get a leaf from Mrs S and demand for my dignity to be respected next time I visit a clinic. I have experienced this here in Austria and in another European country where I have had to take off all my lower clothing and ‘march’ across the room to the exam bed. I asked for a gown the first time and was told that I did not need it. I was shocked! I was further shocked that male gynaecologists do not ask a staff member to come in as witness during the examination.